Home for the Holidays, A Saturalia Short Story Options

[Grits]

Here is a short story about a character from Jerric’s Story. It takes place over Saturalia of 3E432, which I’m pretty sure is the one before things go to Oblivion. I’m posting it in three parts for the time-challenged; I hope that helps for those who can’t get through the whole thing in one sitting.

I should warn you that there are no fights and only one naughty part, in case your tastes run otherwise. Still, I hope you read it.

I welcome your comments and criticisms, and I genuinely appreciate the time that you spend making them!

Home for the Holidays

Part1

Abiene took the porter’s hands and ducked out of the carriage. She stood on the running board, and he lifted her down as if she weighed no more than a wood elf. She held on to his arms until she got her balance, then she looked up and smiled her thanks. He turned to assist the next passenger.

She moved stiffly to the back of the carriage where men were rapidly unloading the passengers’ luggage. The express carriage traveled day and night, only stopping briefly when they changed drivers and horses. It got her home in time for Saturalia, but it was an expensive and physically punishing way to travel. “Milady?” asked another porter.

“Just the one. I’ll carry it; I don’t have to go far.” She pointed at her leather pack, and he handed it down to her. The air was not cold enough to freeze, but the damp seemed to cut right through her. Only six months in Anvil, and I’m already a Gold Coast girl, she thought.

She hooked her pack over her shoulder and walked between the crenellated towers and through the West Gate into Leyawiin.“Greetings, fellow Breton,” one of the guards said to her. She smiled back at him in surprise. Almost all of the Leyawiin City Watch were Imperials.

She turned right at the Great Chapel of Zenithar and continued between the high half-timbered houses. She looked up through the looming trees with their beards of epiphytic moss. She never felt like there was a sky in Leyawiin. She passed Rosentia Gallenus’ house and swung around behind the Blackwood Company Hall. She noted that it wore a new coat of paint on its stuccoed surfaces. She followed the city wall until she reached the statue of Torval the Pilot, then she turned and passed through Pilot Park. Her steps quickened as she reached her own street. She waved and called out greetings to her neighbors, but she didn’t slow to speak with any of them.

Abiene took the path through the side garden of her family’s home and entered through the back door. She dropped her pack outside the scullery and walked into the main kitchen. She stood and smiled at Ilonea, the family’s housekeeper.

“Abiene!” Ilonea cried, and she bustled over with her arms outstretched and her hands covered with flour.

“You don’t want to hug me!” Abiene exclaimed. “I haven’t had a real bath since Anvil.”

“Nonsense,” said Ilonea, and she folded her into a soft embrace. Abiene breathed in the smell of lavender, Ilonea’s scent that had comforted her all of her life.

Ilonea held her out at her arms’ length. “Now you’re right about needing a bath. I have it all set up in the scullery so we can chat. Revilius has been adding hot water all day to keep it ready for you. Go on in there, and I’ll come through and wash your hair for you. You’ll get no peace once Sidette hears you’re home, she has a lot to say about the gown your mother had made for you.”

Abiene was out of her clothes and into the steaming tub in a flash. She relaxed against the curved back rest and sighed with pleasure. Her eyes wandered over the wide sinks and the long shelves of stacked tableware and gleaming cookware. Revilius had kept the fire going all day to heat the water, and the scullery was as warm as toast. She watched steam rising from her rinse water in the warming kettle by the fire. She heard the back door open.

“Occupied!” she called out, and she saw Revilius walk past the scullery door with his face averted.

“Welcome home, Abiene,” he said, and she heard him deposit his firewood in the main kitchen's wood box. She listened to his low voice as he spoke with his wife, and she heard Ilonea’s pleasant tones in reply. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace while it lasted.

Revilius departed with a cheery wave as he walked back out with his eyes on the opposite wall. Abiene ducked under to soak her hair as Ilonea entered the scullery. Ilonea dipped her fingers into the shampoo jar and sat on the high stool behind the tub. She rubbed the paste into Abiene’s tangled hair, scrubbing her scalp with her strong fingers. “I’m going to have to comb it out later, no complaining,” Ilonea said. Abiene’s reply was a contented hmm.

She ducked under to rinse, and when she came up she saw her sister standing smiling in the doorway. “You’re home! I have so much to tell you. Wait until you see our gowns. Did you bring me anything? You’ll never guess who’s been asking about you. I have a new necklace! Ilonea, may we have a snack soon? Hurry up, Abiene, you have to let your hair dry and you haven’t even tried on your gown! What’s that smell? Is that the shampoo? Why doesn’t my shampoo smell like that? Hurry up Abiene!” and she gave her foot a little stomp.

Abiene wiped the water out of her eyes. “I’ll be right up, Sidette. By Azura! You’d think it was six years instead of six months since I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve missed you Abiene!” Sidette blew her a kiss and twirled away.

Ilonea rose and wiped her hands on a linen towel. She shared a look with Abiene. “Nineteen,” Abiene commented.

“And still blooming,” Ilonea replied. “Have a good scrub and call me to help you rinse off. I don’t need you to soak the floor for me.” She headed back to the main kitchen.

Abiene finished her bath and regretfully stood to be rinsed. Ilonea wrapped her in towels and a robe she had warming by the fire and led her to the main kitchen to condition her hair and comb it out. She chatted about domestic matters and the small doings of Abiene’s acquaintances. Abiene shared some funny stories from her journey. Ilonea returned to her work in the kitchen, and Abiene sat on the raised hearth with a cup of Ilonea’s herbal tea letting her hair curl up as the heat dried it.

Abiene’s mother swept into the kitchen. She halted and looked her over. “Good, you’re here. Your gown is in my dressing room, Sidette is already up there.” Her mother wasn’t one for greetings.

She looks the same, Abiene thought. Her glossy brown hair was still untouched by gray, and her skin was as smooth as Abiene’s. Her sharp gaze made Abiene feel that she had already made some error in judgment. “I just want to speak to Papa first. I haven’t seen him yet.”

Her mother sniffed. “He won’t come out until there’s a meal, you’ll have to see him in his study,” she said. “Don’t stay in there long or the smell will cling to you. He’s been conjuring dead things again, even though he knows there are to be no zombies in the house.”

Abiene wanted to laugh, but she had never heard her mother make a joke. “All right, Mother,” she said. She dropped her towels back in the scullery and put on the slippers Ilonea had placed there for her. She smiled past her mother’s back at Ilonea as she made her way down the hall.

She glanced around the hall and the receiving room as she walked through. Everything looked the same. She stopped and knocked on the study door. She waited and knocked again. Finally she took off her slipper and pounded the door with it.

“Enter, enter!” came her Papa’s voice. He looked up as she opened the door, and a smile lit up his round face. “My dear Abiene!” he cried, and he stood up from his desk just in time to catch her as she hugged him. “Let me look at you,” he said, and she took the opportunity to do the same. He looked well, round-cheeked and slightly portly. His curly hair was as much white as gray now, and it stood up in unruly tufts. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners with his delight in seeing her. “How are your studies going in Anvil?” he asked.

“Well I’m mostly teaching for now, but soon I’ll be able to go to Chorrol for more study.”

Her Papa sat back down. “Sticking with the healing then? Good. You have a passion for restoration magic, and a real gift for healing. You could have been anything, I’m glad you followed your heart.”

Abiene was amazed. She had struggled for years with her choices at the Arcane University and her Papa had never advised her. She assumed he wasn’t interested. She realized now that she had never asked.

“What are you working on, Papa? It smells like a scamp in here.”

“Scrolls, my dear, always scrolls! I have been working on some interesting summons spells. Your mother is most displeased with me. Tell me, why Chorrol? Will you study at the Guild there?”

“No, at the Chapel. There’s a healer there, Gureryne Selvilo. He’s working on a new way of healing, using surgery and restoration magic together. It’s very exciting. I have to prove myself before I can earn a position.”

“You will earn it and they will be lucky to have you.” He started to say more, but then he looked around her at the open doorway.

“Papa, we need her,” Sidette said. Her tone was impatient.

“You’d better run along, dear. It’s a big night for you ladies.” He was immersed in his work even before Abiene turned back toward the door.

___

Abiene stood in the new gown and stared at her reflection in shock. The design was so simple, but she felt as elegant as a queen. The brown velvet material was thin enough to drape over her thighs as she moved, and the snug bodice hugged her modest bosom for the best possible effect. The neckline curved low in the front and back. The skirt fell smoothly from the seam under her breasts, skimming her waist and hips then flaring enough to swish when she walked. The long sleeves followed the slim lines of her arms without the poufs and gathers that were in fashion. The only embellishment was a silk ribbon glittering with beads the same color as the velvet. The trim covered the seam under her breasts and sparkled at her wrists when she moved her hands. The color set off her dark brown hair and made her eyes look almost black. Abiene was speechless.

“Your gown is so plain,” complained Sidette. Her own was a strawberry red silk creation trimmed with enough gold braid to sink her to the bottom of the Niben.

“Abiene likes it,” their mother said. “You know she only acts agreeable when she feels agreeable. Not everyone can sparkle and shine like you, Sidette. Abiene glows, but only when she wants to.” She examined Abiene with a critical eye. “Only earrings I think, I have just the pair. You’re a beauty in candlelight, Abiene, when you’re not frowning. Stop putting your hands up, the neckline is cut that way for a reason.” She strode out of the room to fetch the jewelry.

“You do look lovely,” Sidette said. She moved to stand next to Abiene in the mirror. Her own neckline was quite a bit higher. “You’re lucky, that top wouldn’t work for really curvy girls.” She looked at herself and gave a little bounce. The red gown brought out her rosy complexion, Abiene observed. Sidette bounced again, admiring the effect.

“All eyes will be on you tonight,” Abiene said. Sidette’s remarks had long ago ceased to sting her. She just couldn’t give a compliment without concealing a barb in it. “Did I hear that Countess Caro’s cousin is in town?”

Sidette launched into a detailed description of every eligible and desirable man in the county, followed by a list of those who were one or the other, followed by those who were neither. Abiene nodded absently whenever Sidette paused for a breath. Jewelry and shoes were selected and set aside, and the women slipped out of their gowns and seated themselves in their shifts for the hair styling process. Sidette’s maid started by brushing out her silky brown hair. She always wore intricately woven braids.

Ilonea entered the room with tea and biscuits for them. An Imperial woman carrying a quilted bag and a basket followed. “I’m Lorna, milady. I’ll fix up your hair for you.” Lorna was middle-aged, plump, and pretty. She was neatly dressed and smelled of soap. She unrolled a set of flatirons and took a small brazier from her basket.

“You can put those away, Lorna,” said Abiene. “Curly hair doesn’t want to be straight. I’m sure we can think of something else.” Ilonea caught Abiene’s eye in the mirror and winked at her as she left.

Lorna looked uncertain and a little afraid. Abiene knew that she was under instructions from her mother. She made her tone gentle but firm. “Do you have some combs, or maybe a net? Don’t worry about what you’ve been told. After all, it’s my hair.” She smiled at Lorna and took a sip of her tea.

Sidette and her maid exchanged a look. Lorna rolled up the irons and opened the bag. “No brush,” said Abiene. “Here, let’s use this pick. I’ll show you.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Dec 25 2010, 08:24 PM

[Grits]

mALX: I had to give poor doomed Vidkun a little time in the sun. I’m not quite finished with him yet. I like to think of him this way much better than as the dead guy stinking up the well. I was pretty much guessing with the sister stuff, so I’m glad it sounded natural. Thank you for your support, it means so much!!

SubRosa: I saw the similarities in story titles almost as soon as I posted the story – yikes. Do you know if I can change my thread title?

Abiene’s mother’s outlook would put her right at home in Jane’s world. Happily ES gives Abiene some different options. I really enjoyed writing this story, and I’m going to have to come up with more ways to present dialog. So far I have cup-of-tea and walk-and-talk. Hmm.

Your observations of the Mettones are exactly what I was trying to express, even (and especially) her father’s reclusive tendencies. Thank you so much for sharing them, it means a lot to me!

Nits: Excellent point about her race. I added this as she walks through the gate: “Greetings, fellow Breton,” one of the guards said to her. She smiled back at him in surprise. Almost all of the Leyawiin City Watch were Imperials. Thank you!

Acadian:I’m glad you’re enjoying this, it was very much inspired by the season. I also wanted to give Abiene a chance to win people over before she does anything questionable in the main story. Christmas comfort food often comes with a sprinkling of family drama, so brace yourself for the last section.
Nits: Yes, I meant Caro. I fixed it, thanks!


Seasonal chaos removes me from Chorrol while I turn my office back into a dining room, but I will be back very soon!! Abiene is important in Jerric’s Story, she just hasn’t shown up in person over there yet. And since I wrote this when I had to take a break from going crazy over one arrow, I’m sure Abiene will pop up again and give us some girl time.

edited: I've changed Arnand's name to Darnand. Now he has a role in Jerric's Story.



Part 3

The next day brought a parade of guests through the house. Everyone went visiting on Saturalia, and in Leyawiin those who were lower in the social strata visited the homes of their betters. This meant that first each family had to receive visitors, and then they went out and made their visits. The whole day was a precisely orchestrated series of interactions that set the tone for the entire upcoming year. Abiene’s mother was like a general making her battle plan. Abiene was uncharacteristically content on this day to simply do as she was told. Apart from slipping away to meet Vidkun, of course. As always Sidette would play a role in her deception and then keep her secret. Her sister may not approve, but she would never betray her.

The Metonnes stepped out the front door of Orius Hall and lingered for a moment on the wide stone landing, making sure they had been seen. Abiene waited until they reached a corner to make herself invisible. Her footsteps barely whispered on the stones as she tiptoed away. She heard her mother’s querulous tone and Sidette’s response. Her sister could chatter her way out of any situation that came up with their parents, while their mother seemed to sniff out Abiene’s lies like a slaughterfish with blood in the water.

Abiene wanted to skip all the way to Vidkun’s house. The day had been a trial for her, and the visit with the odious Orius had been the worst. He had become certain overnight that Abiene was the one for him, and Abiene’s mother was ready to use her as another rung on her social ladder. She seemed to think that Abiene had chosen healing specifically to annoy her while she waited for her mother to make her a favorable match. No one seemed to notice that Abiene had managed to find a life on the other side of Cyrodiil on her own. Her Papa seemed blithely unaware of any conflict.

Her spell had worn off, and she walked slowly past Vidkun’s house. A moment later she heard the door and his footsteps coming up behind her. “Rellian’s house,” he said. “Do you know where it is?” He turned his head and gave her an unsmiling nod for the benefit of passersby.

She nodded graciously to him in return. “No idea.”

“Follow me then, not too close.” She saw that he had a day pack slung over his shoulder.

She followed him through the Chapel District and into a neighborhood of small, neatly kept houses. He entered one, and she saw that he left the door open. She went to the end of the street and made herself invisible then ran back and through the open door. She broke her spell and Vidkun shut the door.

Abiene looked around with undisguised curiosity. A fire crackled cheerfully in the small fireplace. The furniture was simple wood and the décor was armor and weapons. The table and most of the other surfaces were bare. A pallet had been pulled in front of the fire, and Vidkun’s pack sat open beside it along with two pottery cups and a bottle of wine.

“Who is Rellian?” she asked.

“A friend from the Fighters Guild. He went home for the holidays. He gave me his key. I lit the fire earlier, I know how you are about the cold.”

Abiene removed her cloak and folded it over a chair. “Is this where you bring all of your girls?” she teased.

Vidkun’s face told her to stop. When they were teenagers he had been more confident with her. Now he seemed overly sensitive about the differences between them. “I hoped you would come home,” he said simply.

“Let me heal your arm.” She wanted to feel the way she had felt when she was running to him. She realized that actually being together had become more complicated.

“It’s fine. He set it really well. If you heal it I know it will hurt you.”

“Only a little. Who set it for you?”

“The porter. Leave it, Abiene.”

“Do you think I’d let you go through New Life Festival with a broken arm? This way you can break it again if you want to.” She gave Vidkun a wicked smile. “Besides, you know you’ll need both arms to hold me.” The healer inside her was fuming. She could not believe he had let the Fighters Guild porter set a broken bone.

Vidkun removed the splint from his arm and let her heal it. The porter had done a good job after all, she thought. Abiene quickly extended her magicka and found no other injuries. He flexed his arm and smiled. She ran her hands down his chest and up his back, impatient to feel the heat and weight of him. Vidkun was so full of life. She smiled up at him and began to tug at his clothing.

Later they lay curled together on their sides watching the fire. “I was serious about the Mages Guild,” she said.

“Are you thinking about work right now? That’s not very flattering.” When he spoke she felt his breath against the top of her head.

She turned in his arms and flipped her hair out from under her. “I’m thinking about you. You don’t have to be the Arch Mage, just think about how much a few conjuration spells would help you. Or being able to see in the dark, or breathe under water.”

“I’m not smart enough, I didn’t even finish school. Besides, I hate the water, why would I want to breathe it?”

Abiene brushed her lips across his chest and drew her nails lightly down his side. “School doesn’t make you smart,” she said. She slid her arm around his back and pressed herself against him. “I could teach you a simple spell, and then you would know you can do it. Believe in yourself, Vidkun.” She pushed him onto his back.

“I would like to see in the dark.” His breathing became ragged. “All right, but …” He groaned and his hands caught her hips. “… later, Abiene.”

___

Ilonea stood at the counter in the warm kitchen rolling out dough for the New Life Festival sweets. Abiene had her sleeves up and her hands deep in the next batch of sticky dough. She loved to help Ilonea in the kitchen.

“Do you like living in Anvil, Abiene?”

She nodded. “I love it there. The Guild is full of wonderful folk. There are always new people coming to learn restoration, and the shipping trade provides lots of injuries to train with. I have my own room, and I have a lot of respect for our chapter head. She’s an Altmer, and she’s been in Anvil for ages.”

“Have you met anyone special?”

“Not how you mean. Don’t worry, I’m behaving. I want to stay there and not have anything to be ashamed of.” Abiene could tell that they were thinking of the same Dunmer.

“Your blood was always too hot for your head. Maybe you’re growing out of it.”

Abiene smiled down at the sweet dough. “Well there is one man. A student in residence at the Hall, Darnand Penoit. He’s had a lot of training, but he hasn’t been to the University. I can’t tell if he likes me, though. He’s either stuck up or shy, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”

“Penoit, that’s a good Breton name. Why do you think he’s stuck up, is he arrogant? What does he look like?”

“He is so good-looking, Ilonea. He’s a couple of years older than me, maybe four. Dark hair, not so dark as mine and wavy. He slicks it back but sometimes it curls down on his forehead. He has green eyes. I’ve never seen him smile, he’s so serious. He’s not arrogant, he just keeps to himself. He’s always studying or working.” She looked up at Ilonea. “He’s brilliant, like Papa. I don’t want to make a mistake with him.”

“Let’s say shy then. Go easy, Abiene. Take your time if you think you might want to keep him.”

“Thank you, Ilonea. It’s not so hard to be in Anvil. Not like it is here, my nerves are always tied up in knots.”

Abiene’s mother walked briskly into the room and shot a look at Ilonea. Ilonea brushed the flour from her hands and left without a word.

“I need to speak to you about our plans, Abiene. We have a lot to do in the next few days. You have received several important invitations.”

“I’m leaving in the morning, Mother.”

Her mother pressed her lips together and shook her head dismissively. “Not until after the New Life Festival.”

Abiene’s frustration bubbled over. “Why don’t you hear me? I have work to do. I need to get back to Anvil.”

“I’m sure your pirates and ruffians can wait, Abiene. There are people here that you need to see.” Her mother swept imaginary crumbs from the counter. “You could still join any family in Anvil County, even though you are a healer. Such a shame. You could have been a powerful illusionist.” She shook her head. “You live in Carahil’s Hall, and yet you waste your time with restoration.”

“Illusion magic was your dream, not mine,” Abiene snapped. “Stop punishing me for not following it.”

“You need to make a good marriage before it’s too late. I will speak bluntly. You have been discreet, but you will slip up eventually. Your actions put all of our reputations at risk, especially your sister’s. You look so surprised; did you think Sidette’s silly tales fool me? Don’t confuse me with your father. It was bad enough when you took up with that Dunmer, but at least he had the sense to keep it quiet. You were seen on Saturalia with that Nord again. I won’t have a Metonne connected to a thug from the Fighters Guild. Don’t be so selfish, Abiene.”

Abiene was shocked and humiliated. She struck out thoughtlessly. “I should hope for a marriage like you and Papa? I’m old enough to make my own decisions, Mother. I won’t settle for less than what I want the way you did.” Her hands shook with anger.

Her mother’s cold stare pierced her. “You will not stand in my house and judge me. You are a child who stills grieves over mistakes. We’ll speak as equals when you know what it is to make a sacrifice.” She stalked out of the room.

Abiene leaned over the counter and stuffed a dish towel against her mouth to stifle her sobs. She felt that all of her accomplishments had been stripped away, and she was ten years old again. She was furious with herself for allowing her mother to get to her this way. Ilonea’s hands stroked her back and smoothed her hair.

“She wants the best for you, in her own way,” Ilonea said quietly. “She does love you, Abiene.” Abiene pulled herself together. She did not want to cry into Ilonea’s soft shoulder the way she always used to. I need to get away where I can be myself again, she thought.

___

Abiene hopped down from the carriage and staggered when she hit the ground. The Bosmer porter caught her. “Easy, Abiene.” She looked down at him and smiled.

“How is your back, Terniroth?” she asked.

“Good as new, thanks to you. Which ones are your bags?”

“Just the one.” She pointed and he scrambled up and got it while the other passengers were climbing out of the carriage.

“See you around,” he said, and she gave him a cheery wave. She walked to Anvil’s Main Gate and the guards opened it for her. The air was cool, but after all it was Morning Star. She passed into the Guildgate District and looked around the wide circle at the buildings bathed in sunlight. She could see the lofty spire of Dibella’s Chapel rising up behind the Guild Halls where the streets sloped down toward the harbor. The year of Akatosh 433 is going to be a good one, she thought.

Abiene opened the door and stepped into the front hall of the Mages Guild. Her weariness fell away behind her. She breathed in the scents of herbs, solvents, and ancient books. Carahil stood at her customary spot behind the counter. Her face lit up with a gentle smile. “Ah, Abiene, it pleases me to see you return to us. Greetings of the new year to you.”

Abiene folded her hands respectfully. “And to you, Carahil.” Her heart filled with joy that burst out into a smile. “It’s so good to be home.”

This post has been edited by Grits: Feb 7 2011, 07:34 PM